


who'd have thought (we'd be right here)

by bambirouge



Series: it feels so scary, getting old [1]
Category: NCT (Band), SEVENTEEN (Band), UNIQ (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Buckle Up Buttercups, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, M/M, high school band, mingyu is a jock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23974957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bambirouge/pseuds/bambirouge
Summary: Minghao wonders if he can will Mingyu away if he thinks hard enough, and decides it’s worth a shot. He takes a breath, looks at his right hand grasping the door of his locker, and thinks really, really hard.“Looking forward to seeing you play,” Seokmin says.“Yeah,” Mingyu replies, “I can’t wait for the halftime show. You guys are gonna kill it.”“Hey, thanks! Oh—by the way, do you know Hao?”Minghao snaps out of his attempt at kinesis at the mention of his name, accidentally locking eyes with Mingyu and then frantically looking to Seokmin instead.“We’ve met,” he says.//Or, they told Minghao that senior year was going to be hell. He just didn't expect "hell" to mean Seokmin showing up to school with a friendship bracelet made by Mingyu Kim, star football player and the bane of Minghao's existence.
Relationships: Chwe Hansol | Vernon/Wang Yi Bo, Jeon Jungkook/Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Seokmin | DK, Kim Mingyu/Original Female Character(s), Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Series: it feels so scary, getting old [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728562
Comments: 16
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /tips clown wig to carina/ this one's for you
> 
> here she is!! my very first seventeen fic. please bear with me as i fight this story with my own bare fists

It’s on Minghao’s first day of senior year, his last first day of school in this hellhole of a town, that he closes his locker to reveal the sight of Mingyu Kim high-fiving Seokmin in the hallway.

Seokmin’s face is doing that big, Seokmin-patented grin that propelled him through the student leadership polls, and Minghao watches in horror as he laughs at something Mingyu says in passing. Chloe, the school’s cheer captain, smiles as she’s tucked snugly under Mingyu’s arm; she must’ve been his conquest of the summer. Seokmin says something back to Mingyu and then they _bro hug_ —Minghao starts to wonder if someone kidnapped the real Seokmin and replaced him with a budding frat boy—before Seokmin waves him goodbye and continues down the hallway.

“Hey, Hao!” He holds his hand up for a high-five and Minghao taps it dazedly.

“Seokmin,” he says, and Seokmin raises his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Since when are you friends with _Mingyu?”_

Seokmin frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—” Minghao looks just behind Seokmin to see Mingyu laughing and being roughed up by a group of the other football players. “You guys have, like, never talked. Ever. In the entire time since you transferred here.”

“Yeah, well, we ended up spending a lot of time together at camp this summer! Funny enough, he showed up out of nowhere as a counsellor at camp. He actually makes really good friendship bracelets.” Seokmin grins and holds up his wrist, where a blue-and-pink bracelet is tied around it.

“You didn’t mention him at all after camp.”

“I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.” Seokmin drops his arm, looking worried. “Is it a big deal? Are you guys, like...not cool or something?”

Minghao opens his mouth to speak but Seokmin’s expression is so honest, and so genuine, and he looked so happy when he was talking to Mingyu, so Minghao bites his tongue instead.

“No, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Minghao resists fondly rolling his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. Now c’mon, what do you have first period?”

Seokmin leaves it, thankfully, and lets Minghao walk him to class. They make their way through the halls slowly, taking everything in, pointing out growth spurts and new couples and evidence of the summer’s gossip.

The thing about senior year, Minghao discovers as the day goes on, is that everyone is convinced they’ve suddenly become hot shit. The senior cheerleaders preen in their denim-shorted semicircle, smacking gum as they gaze at the underclassmen with distaste. The art kids who hang around the kilns are spread out on the lawn and look even more full of themselves than usual. The only ones who seem like they haven’t changed, much to Minghao’s relief, are Seungkwan and Vernon. Although they’re juniors this year, so Minghao supposes it’s just a matter of time.

“Welcome back!” Seungkwan shouts as Minghao enters the band room for lunch. Vernon’s pulling him around by the legs as he lounges in an office chair undoubtedly nicked from the band director’s study.

“Home sweet home,” Minghao sighs, and drops his backpack onto the floor next to one of the band chairs.

“Wheee!!” Seungkwan shrieks as Vernon slingshots him across the room.

“How was your summer?” Vernon asks. He abandons Seungkwan and sits down in the chair next to Minghao.

“Boring. Did SAT prep. Took violin lessons. Gave violin lessons. Read.” Minghao produces an apple from his bag and bites into it. “The usual.”

“Me ‘n Vernon revived the band,” Seungkwan says, dusting himself off as he comes to join the circle. “For real this time. We’ve been working on songs all summer.”

“Yeah,” Vernon adds, “and you know Seungkwan’s neighbor Jungkook?”

Minghao nods. “Quiet kid? My year?”

“Uh-huh. Turns out he’s a fucking awesome singer! We had him sing on some tracks and they sound...” Vernon does a chef’s kiss. “...delicious.”

Minghao frowns. “But you guys have never hung out, right?”

“Yeah, well, that’s the whole point! We had no idea he could—”

“I have arrived!”

Minghao turns around in his chair to see Seokmin striding through the door of the band room, arms spread wide.

“Yoooo!” Vernon catches him in a high-five as he comes to sit down. “I thought you blew us off for student council!”

“Not today, lads.” Seokmin plops down on the floor with his lunch tray. “I missed you guys too much.”

“Aw, we missed you too, Seok.” Seungkwan immediately leans over to steal one of Seokmin’s fries. “How’s senior life so far?”

“I’m a new man. People, like, actually look at me in the halls now. I passed the cheerleaders and they _smiled.”_

Minghao laughs. “People have always done that. Besides, why are you so excited about attention from girls? Aren’t you still head over heels for Jaehyun?”

Seokmin pouts. “Am not.”

“Are too.” Minghao also steals a fry from Seokmin’s tray. “Don’t act like you can leave behind three years of pining because a couple of girls in our class smiled at you.”

“Oh, yeah? What about you, then?” Seungkwan wiggles his eyebrows. “Surely there must be someone you’re pining after.”

Vernon snorts. “Minghao doesn’t _pine.”_

“Exactly right,” Minghao says. “I’ve never pined a day in my life. And even if I did, my parents are already up my ass about my grades, so I’ll probably be spending most of my lunches in the library like a hermit again.”

Seokmin blows a raspberry. “So much for senior year.”

“Can’t you just blow ‘em off?” Vernon asks.

“Well, I want to get into NYU anyway.” Minghao takes the last bite of his apple and then does a three-pointer throw into the trash can. “So I guess it’s for my own good or something.”

Seungkwan smirks. “Nerd.”

Minghao kicks him in the leg. “You fuckin’ wish.”

“Yeah, Hao’s GPA is higher than Snoop Dogg on a Saturday.”

Vernon makes a very confused face at Seokmin. “Since when do you make weed jokes?”

“Yeah, Mr. Vice President,” Seungkwan chides, “isn’t that against your image?”

“I’m a senior now, baby.” Seokmin flicks a french fry toward his mouth and misses. “Anything goes.”

“Don’t tell me he’s been like this all morning,” Seungkwan says.

Minghao nods forlornly.

//

Even though Minghao and Junhui see each other every other day outside of school, Minghao still finds himself missing his friend at lunch, and in between classes, and during orchestra. The section leader of the violas this year is a purple-haired girl named Katherine, and she seems acutely aware of the size of the shoes that Junhui left behind to fill.

Minghao thanks heaven above that he wasn’t voted section leader as he watches Casey struggle to get the sophomores to behave during sectionals. He wonders if unruly underclassmen are a constant in every school activity, and then remembers sitting in on band last year to watch the trumpets’ section leader attempt to wrangle Vernon and Seungkwan. One of the violin freshmen catches Minghao smiling to himself at the memory and then promptly looks terrified when Minghao makes eye contact.

The rest of the day is appropriately school-spirited, and for once Minghao sticks around for the back-to-school assembly, sandwiched between Vernon and Seungkwan as Seokmin does all of his leadership-y stuff. He brings a book, though, and spends most of the assembly in between its pages, immersed in a wild goose chase around the Ukrainian countryside.

“Are you coming skating with me ‘n Yibo?” Vernon asks him after they’re let out of the gym. Seokmin is hanging out with the rest of student leadership—Jaehyun touches his arm while asking a question and Seokmin looks ready to blast off to the moon—and Seungkwan is talking to Jungkook animatedly while the senior looks on in amusement.

“Nah,” Minghao replies, “I’m gonna go visit Jun in the dorms.”

“Okay. Tell him hi.” Vernon solemnly sticks out his hand and shakes it profusely when Minghao takes it.

“Will do. Keep an eye on the other eggheads.” Minghao gives him a knowing smile. “Especially Yibo.”

Vernon blushes but he grins all the same. “Yes, sir!” he exclaims, saluting as Minghao waves goodbye. Minghao begins the walk to the college campus, taking a deep breath as the shouts from the school fade behind him.

Junhui’s dorm is one of those old brick ones with columns that Minghao has always secretly loved, despite his loud opinions about how much dorm life sucks. It’s near the middle of campus, which is about a fifteen minute walk from the high school, and Minghao takes the path through the quad, just to feel what it’s like to be a college student. This is another secret of his, how much he longs to galavant off to university—he loves his parents, but they’re strict, and Minghao feels like he hasn’t gone a day in his life without one of them watching over his shoulder.

“Okay, I brought...” Minghao dumps the contents of his bag on the floor next to Junhui’s bed. “Lavender, dark green, pink, light green, powder blue, orange, crimson, and black.”

Junhui studies the pile of nail polish bottles carefully, then points to the black one. “I’m predictable. Sorry.”

Minghao smiles. “I like predictable.”

He swipes the black polish and begins shaking it, but before he can open the bottle Junhui’s roommate speaks up in a reedy voice.

“Can you do that outside? I don’t want the entire dorm to smell like chemicals.”

Junhui mimes shooting himself in the head before answering. “Yeah, we can do it outside.” He nods toward the door. “Quad?”

Minghao nods. They make it out of Junhui’s dorm before Minghao lets out a giggle, pointing back to the room.

“Oh my _God,”_ he says. “Sorry. Bad luck.”

“Jesus,” Junhui groans. “Doesn’t that fucker have anything else to do than play League of Legends? It’s been almost two weeks and I swear he hasn’t left the room _once_. Kill me.”

“Gladly. Then you can come back to haunt the orchestra room. Katherine’s really struggling.”

“That poor soul.” Junhui leads him to the middle of the quad, then sits down and takes off his shoes, extending his feet toward Minghao. “Any other gossip I should be caught up on?”

“Hmm...well, Jonathan P. finally came out, but we’ve all known that since freshman year.” Minghao unscrews the cap of the black nail polish and tugs Junhui’s left foot into his lap. “And Seungkwan and Vernon are hanging out with that kid Jungkook now, not that that’s gossip. It’s just unusual.”

“Seungkwan and Vernon making friends? Hardly.”

“Yeah, but Jungkook—you’re not supposed to make new friends when you’re a senior. That’s not how it works.” Minghao waits for a beat, testing the waters, then pushes on breezily. “Speaking of, Seokmin is friends with Mingyu Kim now, apparently.”

Junhui frowns. “Now _that’s_ unusual.”

“Yeah.”

Minghao paints Junhui’s toenails in silence for a moment. He can tell that Junhui is dying to say something else, so after a while, he lifts his head, raising his eyebrows in question.

“Are you okay with it?” Junhui bursts out.

Minghao shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“I know you guys have history.”

“It’s whatever.”

Junhui eyes him suspiciously but Minghao ignores it. He moves to Junhui’s right foot and begins painting, poking his tongue out in concentration as their backs warm up in the waning summer sun. Junhui’s mostly over the embarrassment of having his toenails painted in public, but sometimes Minghao still catches him avoiding the eyes of other students as they pass. It’s sweet that Junhui pretends he’s totally cool with this for Minghao’s sake. Junhui’s just sweet, generally.

“Well...have Seokmin and that Jaehyun kid finally made out in the back of someone’s car yet?”

Minghao snorts at the question. “No, but Seok is Jaehyun’s vice president this year. If you thought he was gone before, well...” He shakes his head, smiling. “It’s disgusting, frankly.”

Junhui shoots him a positively conniving grin. “I bet you twenty bucks that they’ll be together in three months.”

“Oh, you’re on. Seokmin would rather die than admit that he likes someone. And Jaehyun is almost as straight as Mingyu.” Minghao finishes Junhui’s right pinky toe and sits back. “Fan.”

Junhui does. “Has this ever actually helped them dry faster?”

“Probably not.”

Junhui fans his toes anyway as Minghao puts the cap back on the bottle. Minghao’s shaking up the bottle of lavender nail polish for himself when Junhui speaks up again, cautious.

“Does it really bother you that they’re hanging out? Seok and Mingyu? Because if it does, you should probably let Seokmin know.”

Minghao huffs a sigh. “I can’t. I can’t just tell Seokmin to not be friends with someone, you know him. And you know me, too—I don’t want to stir up drama when it isn’t completely necessary.”

“Don’t you think that you being uncomfortable makes it at least a _little_ bit necessary? Not to mention that Seok might be hurt if you don’t tell him about what happened.”

Minghao shakes his head. “If I don’t tell him, he won’t find out. No one’s talked about that stuff since middle school.” He sighs again. “Besides, I always eat lunch in the library, so it’s not like I have to hang out with Mingyu myself.”

Junhui laughs. “Yeah, you say that now, but have you seen that dude? He’s, like, easily as outgoing as Seokmin—if Seokmin was totally entitled and bro-y. There’s no way he’s not gonna try to talk to you.”

“Well,” Minghao sniffs, “when it happens, I’ll just tell him to fuck off, and that’ll be the end of that. I am way too cool for him.”

Junhui gives Minghao a proud smile. “That’s the spirit. You _are_ too cool for him.”

//

And it does happen. The first time, it happens right where Minghao had caught his first glimpse of the Seokmin-Mingyu alliance, in the seniors’ hallway. Minghao is at his locker while Seokmin does a terrible retelling of a joke that Jaehyun had cracked the day before, and Minghao is kind of zoning out until Mingyu appears at Seokmin’s side to clap him on the shoulder.

“Seokmin, yo!”

“Heyyy!” Seokmin turns around to do an elaborate handshake with him. Minghao feels a little sick. “What’s up?”

“Just wondering if you’re coming to the game this Friday. First game of the season, bro!”

Minghao keeps his eyes trained on the picture of Björk taped to the inside of his locker. He’s trying to stay cool but Mingyu’s presence is powerful, too powerful, in ways that Minghao doesn’t even want to discuss with himself.

“Hell yeah, I’m going! I’m in the band!”

“Oh right, I fuckin’ forgot!”

Minghao wonders if he can will Mingyu away if he thinks hard enough, and decides it’s worth a shot. He takes a breath, looks at his right hand grasping the door of his locker, and thinks really, really hard.

“Looking forward to seeing you play,” Seokmin says.

“Yeah, I can’t wait for the halftime show. You guys are gonna kill it.”

“Hey, thanks! Oh—by the way, do you know Hao?”

Minghao snaps out of his attempt at kinesis at the mention of his name, accidentally locking eyes with Mingyu and then frantically looking to Seokmin instead.

“We’ve met,” he says, at the same time that Mingyu says, “Uh, yeah.”

Minghao’s hands are sweaty; he wipes them on his jeans. Seokmin seems like he doesn’t quite know what to do, so after a moment, he just smiles wide again and turns back to Mingyu.

“Well, I’ll catch you later!”

Mingyu finally takes his eyes off of Minghao. “Yeah, I’ll see you around, dude!” He high-fives Seokmin—what the _fuck_ is with all the high-fiving—before nodding at Minghao, which catches Minghao completely off guard. Minghao can’t help but watch his back as he goes, disappearing into the sea of their classmates.

Seokmin seems to come back to his senses a little after Mingyu leaves, his voice quieting to an only slightly-above-average level. “Are you coming to the game, Hao?”

“Probably not,” Minghao says, still distracted, trying not to let the emotional exhaustion slip into his tone.

“Not even to see us play? Come on, it’ll be fun. First game of the season.”

“I’ll think about it,” Minghao replies, and shuts his locker. “I gotta get to class. See you, Seok.”

“Bye, Hao! Think about it!”

Minghao makes a face at him over his shoulder but doesn’t say anything more. He sends a silent apology to Junhui in his head as he walks to class, and resolves to tell Mingyu to fuck off even louder than he first promised next time he sees him.

And then it happens again.

“Minghao and...Mingyu,” their teacher reads from a sheet, and Minghao can feel his body temperature instantly rise a couple of degrees.

In the seven years that Minghao and Mingyu have gone to school together, never have they ever been paired up for a class project. But because senior year apparently means no mercy, Minghao finds himself scooting his chair over a little extra so all six foot whatever of Mingyu Kim can fit next to him at the table.

“Okay,” Minghao says, flipping to his notes from the night before. “I’ve already divided everything up evenly, but if you want to switch anything, we can. Just please turn your stuff in on time, and don’t half-ass it.”

Mingyu nods but he barely looks at Minghao’s writing on the page. “Cool, cool, cool. So, are you gonna come over to work on it?”

Minghao stares at him. “What?”

“The presentation. We should work on it together, right?”

“I—you—we can just talk through the Google Doc.”

“What’s the fun in that, though?” Mingyu grins at Minghao and there are a thousand bottle rockets going off in Minghao’s brain; his mouth is racing to keep up.

“I’m not going over to your house. Just take the notes.”

“You sure?”

Minghao wordlessly tears the page out of his notebook and slides it over to Mingyu, then gets up just as the bell rings. He hears Mingyu call something after him as he exits the classroom but it’s garbled by the ringing in his ears.

And then it happens _again._

“Hey,” Mingyu says as Minghao passes him in the hallway, then actually _detaches from his group_ to fall into step with him.

“Yes?” Minghao asks. He shouldn’t even be dignifying Mingyu with a response at this point, but they’re in the middle of a crowd and Minghao doesn’t want to cause a scene by icing him out completely.

“You skate, right? I saw you in the park the other day.”

Minghao raises an eyebrow. “Are you stalking me?”

“Whaaat? No way, dude.” Mingyu laughs a flimsy laugh, and Minghao adds it to the growing list of things about Mingyu that don’t seem to make any fucking sense. “I was there with Chloe. I saw you skating and just thought it was hella cool.”

“It’s none of your business,” Minghao says.

“It was cool anyway. Also, I finished my part of the presentation. On time.” A glance at Mingyu shows him looking to Minghao expectantly, like he’s waiting for praise.

“I know, I got it.” Minghao stops at the door of his classroom. “I have to go to class. Bye.”

Mingyu’s face falls a little, but it quickly brightens up again. “Okay, see you later!”

He turns to run back to his group and Minghao once again finds himself staring after him like an idiot.

“You okay?” asks Jungkook, who has appeared next to Minghao at the door. He looks at Minghao with polite concern, although Minghao can’t remember ever talking to him in his life.

“Uh, yeah,” he replies as he shakes himself out of his thoughts. He smiles at Jungkook. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Jungkook goes into the classroom and Minghao follows him, unable to let go of the feeling that being around Mingyu gives him; it’s like skydiving, or cliff-jumping, or right before he loses his balance on his board.

And then it _keeps_ happening.

“Go away,” Minghao says when Mingyu puts his big, stupid arm on the back of Minghao’s chair, but Mingyu either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care. He even flexes his bicep a little against Minghao’s back, and maybe that’s supposed to be intimidating or something, but all it does is make Minghao clutch his pencil so hard his knuckles go white.

“Whatcha workin’ on?”

“Rocket science. Leave.”

“Seokmin told me you eat lunch all by yourself in here.”

“Maybe that’s for a reason.”

“You could come and eat with us, if you want to.”

“No thanks.”

Mingyu sighs and retracts his arm. Minghao tries not to stare as Mingyu gets up from his chair and stretches, his t-shirt riding up inches from Minghao’s face.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you at the game tonight. You’re coming, right?”

“No.”

“First game of the season. Everyone’s gonna be there.”

“My friends, you mean.”

Mingyu puts his hands on his hips and stands there for a minute. It makes Minghao nervous.

“Yeah, your friends are gonna be there. You should come.”

“I’m not going.”

Mingyu sighs dramatically, then shrugs. “Suit yourself, man. I’ll see you around.” He walks backward toward the door, shooting finger guns in Minghao’s direction. “Good luck on your homework, Minghao!”

The sound of his full name spilling forth from Mingyu Kim’s lips is almost enough to make Minghao snap his pencil in half, but he manages not to do anything totally rash until Mingyu’s footsteps fade completely away and the library door distantly opens and closes. Then, Minghao calmly sets his pencil in his textbook, moves his notebook to the side, and thunks his head down on the table.

“He’s just trying to be nice,” Priya says from the computers across from him. Minghao lifts his head to narrow his eyes at her.

Because, yeah, sure, maybe Mingyu’s just trying to be nice. Maybe Minghao should totally humor him and be nice back, and let Mingyu talk to him, hell, let Mingyu sling a big, toned, dumb arm around him for no good reason at all. But Priya doesn’t know shit, and Mingyu Kim is—and has always been—an asshole. Minghao isn’t the type who forgets easily.

“You’ve started your essay for AP lit, right, Priya?” Minghao asks her coolly. “I hope you have. It’s due tomorrow.” Priya’s expression darkens as she looks back to her computer screen, and Minghao pulls his textbook toward him again, determinedly shoving every last non-math-related feeling to the back of his brain.

This must be a mistake, how often Mingyu keeps popping up wherever Minghao happens to be. It’s got to be a fucking joke, right? There’s no way that Mingyu could be coincidentally swooping back into Minghao’s life just before Minghao gets to be free from the treachery of high school forever.

Minghao squeezes his pencil until he hears the telltale crinkle of wood beginning to splinter, then lets up before someone notices him having a silent meltdown.

“You should come to the game,” Seungkwan says, the instant Minghao strolls up to their group after school. Minghao sighs heavily.

“I have homework,” he says, even though it’s only the second week of school. Seungkwan punches him in the arm.

“Come oooon,” he says. “Come see me ‘n everyone play. Please?”

“I can’t.”

“For us?” Seungkwan gives him the gooiest, most disgusting puppy eyes that Minghao has ever seen, and really, how can he refuse?

“You...okay,” he huffs. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Yay!” Seungkwan throws his arms in the air, and Minghao narrowly dodges a smack to the face.

“But—” Minghao holds a finger up. “—I have to bring my homework with me. And I can’t stay out afterward.”

“You sound like my dad,” Seungkwan says, smirking. “Who the fuck does homework at a football game?”

No one, it turns out, because Minghao can’t go two seconds without being interrupted by either shouts from the chorus of students surrounding him or the blare of the band at every fucking time-out. He gives up after the first quarter and moves up to where Seungkwan and Vernon are sitting; Seokmin is at the other end of the trumpet section, flirting with Jaehyun from across the row.

“Are we winning?” Minghao shouts to Vernon over the crowd. Vernon’s uniform is half-undone even though he knows it’s against the rules.

“Of course not!” Vernon shouts back. “Come on, do the chant with us!”

This year’s chant is mostly gibberish, as all game chants are, but Minghao gets the rhythm down and is soon being pulled to the front row by Seungkwan to lead their section of the stands. He and Seungkwan wave their arms like idiots, the crowd mirroring them as if they’re a field of sentient noodles. Minghao’s throat is hoarse from yelling but he still manages to laugh when Seungkwan throws an arm around him, leaning low and beginning to march in place. The crowd follows and soon the stadium is thundering with the sound of feet on cement.

 _“Let me see your alligator!”_ Seungkwan bellows.

 _“What’s that you say?”_ the students respond.

_“I said, let me see your alligator!”_

_“What’s that you say? I say_ — _”_

Everyone flaps their arms like alligator jaws, including Minghao, who spots Seokmin laughing at him from the top of the stands. Minghao sticks his tongue out and Seokmin does it back, and then Seungkwan is sweeping him down again for the next part of the cheer.

Minghao stays at the front row for halftime after the band clears out. He’s alone until a sophomore kid sidles up next to him—Minghao thinks his name is Mark—and waves enthusiastically at someone in the band as they trickle out onto the field. Mark catches Minghao watching him and flushes, giving him an awkward nod; Minghao nods in return and then looks back out at the field, smiling to himself.

The football players are trudging off as the band lines up in the end zone, and Minghao watches number 43 tousle his hair with one giant hand. There’s something about the movement that makes Minghao’s stomach clench in that way he’s taught it not to, the way that makes anxiety flare at the base of his throat. Suddenly the player turns around and it’s Mingyu, of _course_ it’s Mingyu, and he must see Minghao standing in the front row because he makes eye contact and does a little two-finger wave.

Minghao finds himself unable to look away, cheeks hot; Mingyu’s face is slick with sweat and his hair is glossy and now, oh _God_ , he’s smiling at Minghao with all of his perfect, white, shiny teeth. Minghao swallows the wrong way and chokes, coughing into his elbow as Mark eyes him worriedly. 

“You okay, dude?”

“Yeah,” Minghao wheezes. He looks back to the field but Mingyu is walking away. “Just—um, y’know—”

Mark smiles wistfully, nodding. “Yeah, I know.” He sighs, resting his chin on the rail and looking out at the band. “Me too.”

Minghao stares at him, mouth open. “—Um, no, I didn’t mean—”

He’s cut off by the announcer as the halftime show begins. He doesn’t look back at Mark but he’d feel like a dick if he walked away now, so he stays and cheers from the front row.

The high school band is surprisingly polished for such a small town; Minghao knows the work they put in from Seokmin, Seungkwan, and Vernon’s complaining. Minghao’s been playing the violin since he could read, so joining orchestra was the obvious choice, but from what he’s heard he doesn’t think he’d be cut out for marching band anyway.

He congratulates his sweaty friends when they return to the stands, red-faced and beaming.

“Macie almost ran me the fuck over!” Seungkwan glares at the girl, who’s setting her bass drum down on the seats. Minghao’s eye is caught by Mark rushing to greet a shy-looking boy carrying a snare drum, and his heart gives a soft little hitch when the boy catches Mark as he trips.

“Well, I couldn’t tell at all.” Minghao smiles at Seungkwan. “You guys looked great.”

“I’m just glad it’s over,” Vernon says as he rolls his shoulders back, grimacing. “I fell at the skate park yesterday and everything fucking hurts.”

“You’re gonna break yourself,” Seungkwan sniffs.

“Gotta risk it for the biscuit, baby.”

“Hey, guys!” Seokmin calls from the trumpet section. “Come on up, we’re having a section meeting!”

Seungkwan grumbles and Vernon follows him up the stairs, leaving Minghao alone again. He doesn’t dare go back down to the first row but he does watch Mingyu jog back onto the field, throwing a brief glance over his shoulder at the stands. Minghao freezes in place but Mingyu doesn’t see him, he just turns around again to join his teammates.

Minghao feels bothered in a way that hasn’t pounced on him since eighth grade; it’s a deep kind of trouble that seems to wrap around his very bones. He feels a little sick watching Mingyu interact with his teammates, unaware—no, ignorant.

There’s no way he doesn’t remember.

They lose, as is expected, and the band files out of the stadium after the game with Minghao in tow.

“You coming with us to Duke’s?” Seokmin asks him, twirling his keys around one finger. It’s dark out, but clear, and not far enough into September for Minghao to freeze without a jacket.

“Can’t,” he says. “I gotta finish my homework.”

“I found it!” Seungkwan exclaims as he comes careening out of the stadium, waving his phone in the air. “Fell out of my fucking pocket again.”

“I told you, dude!” Vernon joins the circle as well. “You comin’ to Duke’s, Hao?”

“He’s gotta finish his _homework_.” Seokmin scrunches his nose up at Minghao.

“Seok—”

“Aww, come out with us, grandpa!” Seungkwan loops his arms around Minghao’s shoulders. “It’s the first post-game Duke’s of the season!”

Minghao heaves an exasperated sigh. “You all—” Seokmin, Vernon, and Seungkwan all give him ridiculous pleading faces this time, and his resolve crumbles in record time. “You all suck. I’ll go—but someone is buying me fries.”

“I volunteer as tribute!” Seokmin says, and yanks Minghao after him as he takes off toward the parking lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic was born at @jooniedimpss on twitter when carina bullied me w pictures of minghao pining. come say hi xoxo


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh, sorry this chapter is such a clusterfuck. i started writing this fic before i had a solid idea of everyone's characterization, so i had to do some tweaking and changing and Big Thinking to get things back on track. but here it is! we're halfway done!! hopefully next chapter will be less of a pain in the ass <3

Duke’s is a five minute drive from the stadium, on Central Way where the blackberries grow wild on empty lots and the motel next to Walgreens is rumoured to house a drug ring. Minghao sticks his hand out the window of Seokmin’s backseat, trying to commit the thick dreaminess of summer air to memory before it’s gone for another nine months. Minghao has always wanted a hazy summer spent with a beautiful boy, making taco truck runs in the middle of the day and swimming in the lake.

And there’s another secret wish of his. Minghao must have a lot of them.

“God, I’m _starving,_ ” Vernon announces as he leaps out of the back seat. “Shit, I only have, like, four bucks.”

“I got you,” Seungkwan says, pulling out his wallet as the group steps inside. “I owe you for last time.”

Duke’s is a relic in the desert of Central Way, a fifties-style drive-in diner that the upperclassmen flock to during lunch. Sometimes old guys pull up in their classic Fords or Chevys to flex, looking pleased with themselves as they lounge under the checker-adorned covering that extends into the parking lot. Tonight, the restaurant glows with the light of neon signs, packed to the brim with students no doubt coming from the game.

“Hey,” Seokmin says, looking at his phone. “Is it okay if Mingyu and Jaehyun come hang out with us?”

“Mingyu Kim?” At least Vernon looks as confused as Minghao felt when he first heard the news.

“Yeah. He’s cool.”

Seungkwan and Vernon exchange looks before shrugging. Seokmin turns to Minghao, who suddenly feels very claustrophobic. He curses himself for letting Seokmin be his ride home; the buses on Central are way too sketchy to risk this late at night.

“I guess so,” Minghao says, defeated.

“Sweet.” Seokmin goes back to his phone, oblivious, and Minghao’s stomach begins to churn.

He does manage to cop some fries at Seokmin’s expense, and they steal a table near the back, closed in by the throng of people. Vernon and Seungkwan are taking turns throwing fried mushrooms into each other’s mouths and being generally annoying, and Minghao is trying to keep the anxiety confined to the pit of his stomach where it can’t hurt him.

Jaehyun arrives first with—much to Minghao’s surprise—Mark and the drumline boy from earlier.

“Hey guys, this is my little brother Jeno and his friend Mark. I forgot that I’m their ride tonight—sorry for not giving you a heads up.”

Mark spots Minghao and looks sheepish, then waves. Minghao waves back but the feeling of overwhelm multiplies.

“Hey, no problem!” Seokmin motions for everyone to scoot over and make room. “We might need a few more chairs, though.”

Minghao likes Jaehyun, or, at least, what he’s heard about him through Seokmin. But Minghao’s not used to their table being this full. The noise in the restaurant is gigantic and Minghao has a hard time focusing on what anyone is saying; instead, he watches the conversation relay between the members of the group as he looks on.

When Mingyu comes through the door about ten minutes later, Minghao swears he can physically feel his stress level hit the ceiling. Mingyu offers greetings to the group, pulling up a chair and knocking shoulders with Seokmin, but all Minghao can hear is the blood rushing in his ears as the room seems to grow warmer and warmer.

“I’m gonna get some air,” he says to Vernon, who looks up at him with concern.

“Okay,” Vernon replies. “You all right?”

Minghao nods and gets up from his chair, excusing himself and heading to the door. He feels better the instant he steps outside, lulled by the chatter behind him; he usually does love nights like these but the day has been filled to the brim with confusing feelings and bad memories. Minghao can’t shake the feeling that things are shifting, slowly but monumentally, and that somehow he’s already behind.

He goes around to the side of the building and sits on the curb under a neon hamburger sign. He misses Jun. He misses Soonyoung and Wonwoo and everyone who’s left over the years.

Is this what senior year is going to be like?

As if on cue, a tall shadow rounds the corner and Minghao looks up to see Mingyu standing above him.

“Hey, what are you doing out here all by yourself?”

Minghao sighs. “Maybe I needed some space.”

“You look lonely.” Mingyu wastes no time sitting right down next to Minghao on the curb, stretching his legs out long.

“What’s with your obsession with bothering me?”

“Just trying to make friends.”

Minghao shakes his head. “Entitled.”

Mingyu freezes. “What?”

“I said—” Minghao looks Mingyu in the face, fully prepared to deliver, but Mingyu is looking back at him with such shock that it steals the words right out of his mouth. “...Nothing. Forget it.”

He doesn’t know if Mingyu is too stunned to spur him on or just feeling merciful, but he stays silent. A worm of something uneasy and grimy comes to life in Minghao’s chest, and he hugs his knees in hopes of chasing it away.

“What are you even doing here, anyway?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t there, like, a crazy rager after the first game of the season?”

“Yeah, there is, but I, um...” Mingyu looks _uncomfortable_ for a moment, the emotion out of place on his usually smiling features. “...I don’t drink.”

“What?”

Mingyu is chewing on his lower lip, eyes on the pavement. He shrugs. “I don’t.”

Minghao waits for an explanation but it never comes, so he just leans back against the side of the building in silence. Everything he knows about the boy next to him is telling him to walk away, that this is _Mingyu,_ for fuck’s sake. But there’s something heavy in the way Mingyu’s shoulders hunch up, the shiftiness of his eyes; so, like he’s walking on ice, Minghao stays.

“...I don’t drink either,” he says after a moment. He looks straight ahead. “I don’t like it.”

Mingyu laughs, a quiet one, different from the booming sound that Minghao hears echoing down the hall every day. “Yeah?”

Minghao shakes his head. “Never did.”

Mingyu nods. Looks at his feet. “Guess that’s why I never saw you at parties.”

“I wasn’t invited.”

“You were cool enough to be.”

Something more bitter than anger flares in Minghao’s stomach. “Mingyu, why the hell are you being nice to me now?”

When he looks back at Mingyu, that same shocked-uncomfortable-hurt expression is plain on his face. Minghao clenches his teeth, feeling the prickle of tears at the corners of his eyes, and stands before marching back inside.

“Hey, I’m gonna take the bus home,” he says to Seokmin, speaking fast to hide the way his voice wavers.

“What?” Seokmin replies incredulously. “Are you crazy? On _Central?”_

“I think I just need to go home.” Minghao definitely sounds a little watery, and Seokmin looks at his face a bit closer, squinting. Then his expression gets serious and he wraps a warm hand around Minghao’s elbow.

“I can take you home.” He nods to Jaehyun. “Are you okay hanging out here for a bit? I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah, of course.” Jaehyun is nice, as always, and Minghao instantly feels guilty.

“Thanks for coming to the game, Hao!” The grin Vernon throws him is unclouded and lovely, easing the tightness in Minghao’s chest a little.

“Yeah, of course. You guys were great. I’ll see you Monday.” Minghao waves back to everyone and then lets Seokmin lead him through the door, nearly running Mingyu over in the process.

“Oh, sorry, dude!” Seokmin grins although Mingyu looks a little less shiny than his usual self. “I’m just giving Hao a ride home. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“All right, see you.” Mingyu nods, although Minghao can’t tell if it’s at him or Seokmin, then enters the restaurant again. Seokmin turns to Minghao, puzzled.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“Can you please just take me home?” Minghao replies. He’s suddenly exhausted, ready to sleep until the next century, dreading the awaiting pile of homework that he’d neglected the whole night.

“Okay,” Seokmin says, seemingly getting the message, and heads toward his car.

Minghao adores Seokmin and his antics and his volume and his bright light, but he’s thankful that, when the time comes, Seokmin knows how to be quiet. He just puts some music on that he knows Minghao likes and taps his fingers on the steering wheel, whistling along to the chorus. Minghao’s stomach churns the whole way home.

“See you Monday?” he says when they pull up to Minghao’s house. It’s a question, a thinly veiled final invitation to talk, but Minghao doesn’t feel like talking.

“See you Monday,” he replies. “Thanks for the ride, Seok.”

“Anytime.”

Minghao shuts the car door and heads to his front steps. He’d texted his parents before he went out to Duke’s, but he doesn’t expect them to be happy with how late he’s arriving home. He hides his bag behind himself unconsciously, afraid his mother will be able to sense unfinished homework.

“Where have you been?”

He’s right—his mother is in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a cup of tea.

“I was with my friends. At Duke’s, I texted you.”

“It’s late.”

“I know. It won’t happen again.”

His mother raises her eyebrows.

“...I’m sorry.”

Her eyebrows drop and the corners of her mouth stiffen. He knows she’s waiting for him to cross the living room and head to the hallway, so he does, clutching his bag with both hands.

“Your senior year is important, Minghao.”

Minghao slows in the hallway.

“I know,” he says, then stalks into the darkness of his bedroom.

///

When Minghao steps into the library the next day, his stomach drops all the way to the soles of his shoes. The library is mostly empty, as it always is, except for Mingyu, who is sitting at Minghao’s usual table with a school book opened neatly before him.

“I’m not going to bother you,” he says before Minghao can get a word out. “I promise. I’m just...doing some homework.”

Minghao pauses. He bites the inside of his cheek. He should tell Mingyu to fuck off, like he’s promised himself he would a thousand times, but that same heaviness is in Mingyu’s brow this time as he looks at Minghao with something between hope and defeat. It shakes Minghao into speechlessness, and before he can stop himself he’s slinging his bag over the back of a chair and taking a seat.

Mingyu, miraculously, is quiet for the entirety of lunch. Every once in a while, Minghao looks up to see if he’s still there, and he is each time, meeting Minghao’s gaze with a small smile. It’s quite possibly the most confusing thing that Minghao has ever witnessed in his life, and he’s way too distracted to get his work done; he’s only halfway finished when the bell rings, watching as Mingyu gathers up his stuff, nods silently to Minghao, and leaves.

Minghao sits there by himself for five solid minutes, head spinning, and is only shocked into motion at the sound of the late bell.

It continues like this for a week straight. Minghao walks into the library to find Mingyu already at his table, working quietly, only looking up to welcome him with a little wave. He doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Mingyu work so diligently on something that wasn’t football or charming his jock-y way into the hearts of the masses, and frankly, it’s freaking him out.

Mingyu keeps hanging around the group, too. He’s different from how he is in the library; with Minghao’s friends, he’s boisterous and touchy, often play-fighting with Seokmin or throwing food into Vernon’s mouth from across the table. But even though Mingyu makes himself a damn near permanent fixture in Minghao’s social life, Minghao can’t banish the clenching feeling in his gut when Mingyu is around, like everyone is choosing to ignore who Mingyu is outside the sanctuary of their little circle.

“If you’re not going to tell everyone about what happened, you can’t really blame them,” is what Junhui says every time Minghao brings it up.

“But they’re attached to him now. I don’t want to make my friends sad.”

Junhui laughs. “That’s why you should’ve told Seokmin in the first place!”

Minghao sighs. He’s tired, and anxious, and barely keeping up with his schoolwork since Mingyu started hanging out in the library.

“I just wish things would go back to normal,” he says, no longer in the mood to talk about it. He changes the subject, but when he leaves campus later that day, Junhui’s advice follows him.

It follows him all the way to the art room after school, when Minghao is finishing up the sgraffito part of his project for ceramics and Seokmin, Jaehyun, Seungkwan, and Mingyu tag along.

“Do you think I could make a rainbow chevron?”

Mingyu is teaching Seungkwan how to make friendship bracelets at the next table over. Seokmin and Jaehyun are at the pottery wheels in the back, and Minghao can hear bashful laughter drift across the classroom every couple of minutes.

“Umm...what is that, like, seven colors? Probably.”

Mingyu tosses Sengkwan the Ziploc bag of embroidery thread and Seungkwan wiggles his fingers in excitement.

“Time for gay arts and crafts,” he says happily, before diving into the bag.

Minghao bristles at Mingyu’s silence.

Seokmin and Jaehyun bid their goodbyes before Minghao finishes his work, then Vernon and Yibo swing by to give Seungkwan a ride home. The other students gradually file out and eventually it’s just Minghao and Mingyu and the methodical _scrape scrape scrape_ of Minghao’s pottery needle. Mrs. Shaw has been clanking around in the back room for a while now, out of sight, and Minghao feels exposed under the fleeting gazes Mingyu throws at him.

“Done?” Mingyu says when Minghao sets the needle down and stretches.

“Mm.”

He gets up to put his tools away and store his project, and when he goes to grab his stuff Mingyu is standing beside it with his backpack on. Minghao is so tired. He resolves to tell Seokmin about everything tomorrow, regardless of the consequences.

“I have to get to practice,” Mingyu says. “Walk me there?”

Minghao stares at him. “I’m good, thanks.”

Mingyu sighs. “Okay. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He turns around slow, slower than usual, and seems to drag his feet as he walks toward the door. Minghao goes back to the table to gather up his stuff, but before he can zip his backpack Mingyu is speaking up again.

“I...I don’t know what you want from me.”

“What do you mean? I don’t want anything from you.”

“I just mean—” Mingyu clenches his jaw, frustrated. “What do I have to do to get you to talk to me? I’ve tried everything. And I _keep_ trying.”

“Are you serious?”

“Serious about what?”

Minghao’s pulse spikes as he wraps his hand around the strap of his bag. He begs his voice not to shake.

“Mingyu,” he says, “you can make friends with my friends, fine, they’re their own people. But you can’t expect me to just forget all the shit you did if you say a few nice things and act like not bothering me in the only place I had to myself at school is the most heroic thing anyone’s ever—”

Minghao doesn’t register what his hand comes into contact with for a solid three seconds, but by then, it’s too late. The first pot knocks into the second, which knocks into the third, the fourth, the fifth, until every pot on the shelf is crashing to the floor in a spectacular cacophony. Minghao stands in silence, one hand in the air still, lungs tied up with panic and guilt and leftover anger. _This is it,_ he thinks. _This is the worst day of my life._

But suddenly Mingyu is crossing the classroom with a determined look on his face, making a beeline for Minghao. He pushes Minghao away from the shelf and before Minghao can exclaim anything Mrs. Shaw emerges from the back room, then comes to a stop. She covers her mouth as she takes in the scene.

“What happened here?” she asks, but her eyes are already on Mingyu, who stands right next to the trail of broken pottery.

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu replies. “I-I knocked them over.”

Mrs. Shaw looks over to Minghao but Mingyu speaks up again.

“It’s not his fault,” he says. “He didn’t do anything.”

Minghao’s heart is pounding now as he looks from Mingyu to Mrs. Shaw and then back again. Mingyu isn’t looking at him, and all at once Minghao has the horrible realization that Mingyu is a great actor.

“Is this true?” Mrs. Shaw asks Minghao.

Now Mingyu looks at him, and although it’s not the first time he’s made Minghao speechless, the weight on Minghao’s tongue feels more significant than ever. Minghao has never been a liar, but if he tells the truth Mingyu might get in trouble anyway. Does he want Mingyu to get in trouble? _Not really_ , something inside him says, and he bats it away in alarm. He thinks of what his parents will say when they hear he has detention for a week, what his mother will say, and a hot drip of fear burns its way down his spine. He swallows, then opens his mouth.

“It’s true,” he says, not sounding like himself at all.

Mrs. Shaw sighs heavily and turns back to Mingyu. “In that case, I’m afraid you’ll have to stay behind and clean it up.”

Mingyu bites his lip worriedly. “Could...could I wait until after football practice? There’s a game tomorrow, and—”

“Right now is good.” Mrs. Shaw heads for the back room again. “I’ve been clear that the art room is a space to take caution in, especially around your fellow students’ work. I imagine my class will be disappointed that they’ll have to redo their projects.”

Minghao watches Mingyu’s eyes drop to the floor. “I understand.”

“You’re free to go,” Mrs. Shaw says to Minghao as she disappears into the back.

Minghao can’t stop looking at Mingyu, who can’t seem to look back at him.

“You can go, Minghao,” he says.

Minghao lingers for a few seconds more, caught between cliffs of feelings he can’t name, and then he shoulders his backpack. He goes.

When he walks into the library the next day, Mingyu isn’t there.

///

It’s entirely unexpected, the way that thoughts of Mingyu keep doing cartwheels across Minghao’s brain for the following week. They’re not all nice. Minghao still gets that ugly feeling in his stomach when he sees Mingyu bro-ing around with his football friends, one elbow resting on Chloe’s shoulder. But sometimes Minghao will be trying to fall asleep at night when suddenly he’ll remember Mingyu’s face, the one he made when he was looking at all the pottery on the floor, and he’ll get this heavy feeling in his chest, like he’s done something out of line. It makes him uneasy at best, guilty at worst. Although he can’t be sure which part he feels the most guilty for.

He begins watching Mingyu in their shared class. Mingyu usually sits at a table on the other side of the room, and Minghao often finds himself zoning out while he gazes across the classroom, observing the way Mingyu picks yellow paint off his pencil. It’s stange; he’s never really _looked_ at Mingyu before, not properly, despite all of the hours they’ve sat alone at the same table. Mingyu looks...

Mingyu looks absent a lot of the time. Not sad, or worried, just adrift. He stares out the window in class, chin propped up on one hand, and only knows the question he’s being asked half the time he’s called on. He looks like Minghao’s been feeling lately: not quite in sync with the rest of the world, or with himself, for that matter. It can’t be because of what Minghao said in the art room, Minghao’s ego isn’t that big. But Minghao can’t help but feel like it’s somehow his fault.

“I feel like I should do something,” he admits to Junhui, quietly, when they’re standing in line at the pizza place. He’s been thinking too much lately, waking up tired.

“Like what? He left you alone, finally. You’ve been complaining about him for weeks.”

“I know.”

“So, isn’t this a win?”

“I mean, yeah.” Minghao plays with the edge of his sleeve. “It is, I guess.”

And it should be a win. It should. But Minghao looks at Mingyu, _really_ looks at him, looks at the way he and Seokmin still crack each other up in the hallway, looks at the yellow paint chips on the surface of Mingyu’s desk, looks at Mingyu spinning his keys around one finger as he strolls into the parking lot, and it doesn’t feel like a win at all.

It should be impossible.

Minghao can’t _stand_ Mingyu, as a rule; it’s been that way for the last five years. And Mingyu hasn’t even done that much to warrant the Confusion Symphony that seems to be playing in Minghao’s mind at all times now. But the distance after such close proximity has Mingyu’s details catching Minghao’s attention, and once he starts looking, he can’t stop. So he watches, perplexed, a little scared, as the impossible happens.

Which brings Minghao to this moment, waiting by his locker for Mingyu to pass by on his way to lunch. He’s got his back turned to the hall, pretending like he’s writing something down on the pad of sticky notes stuck to the wall of his locker, but in reality he’s just running over the lines he’s been practicing in his head all week when he found himself thinking about Mingyu instead of sleeping.

It’s impossible. It’s impossible and it’s happening. Minghao holds onto his locker door for dear life.

“...Hey,” he says, when Mingyu approaches. Mingyu looks supremely confused.

“Hi?”

“Are you free right now?”

“Uh...” Mingyu looks down the hall, then back at Minghao. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Can we talk?”

Mingyu’s the type of person that Minghao can usually read easily, but when their eyes meet, Mingyu is indecipherable. He shifts on his feet like he’s nervous, but his tongue in his cheek screams confidence, confidence.

This shouldn’t be happening. Minghao opens his mouth to take it all back.

“Where?” Mingyu asks, before he has the chance. So Minghao lets out a breath instead. 

“Parking lot?”

“Lead the way.”

It’s the strangest thing, but no one bats an eye at Minghao and Mingyu walking side by side through the crowd. They’re opposites; Mingyu with his bright smile and broad shoulders and letterman jacket, and Minghao with his quiet watchfulness and lavender nail polish. And yet, life goes on around them, business as usual, not a sideways glance in their direction. Minghao gets that same feeling, like something big is shifting, like he needs to pay extra close attention, and when they reach the parking lot, he feels like he’s riding an adrenaline high.

“I just wanted to thank you,” he begins, “for what you did in the art room. I know you probably got in trouble for missing practice.”

Mingyu smiles, but he avoids Minghao’s eyes. “Ah, you’re welcome. I know that—” He fidgets with his fingers. “—Seokmin told me your parents are pretty strict. So.”

Minghao crosses his arms. “He did, didn’t he?”

Mingyu meets his eyes again, squinting a little in the sun. It feels different to have Mingyu looking at him now; the weight of Minghao’s old memories offset by the open earnestness on Mingyu’s face that’s becoming harder and harder to ignore.

“Did you have detention?”

“Just one. Nothing major.”

Minghao nods. He’s done what he came to do, but the conversation still feels incomplete.

He thinks about the furrow in Mingyu’s brow. The heaviness when he revealed a little piece of himself. He thinks about how loud Mingyu talks around him, like he’s trying to cover something up. About how he approached Minghao’s friendship with strategy after strategy, the same way that Minghao would solve a math problem.

The same way Minghao would try to fix something.

“The library has been a little quiet lately,” Minghao says, finally.

Mingyu’s surprise is crystal clear.

“More quiet than usual?”

That makes Minghao laugh. “Kind of, yeah.”

Mingyu is looking at him again, and it feels different than it did even two minutes ago. Some of the rubble has been cleared away and Minghao no longer feels like he’s peering at Mingyu through a screen of smoke.

“I should go there now, actually. I have some homework to catch up on.”

“Me too,” Mingyu says. “Lots of homework. Tons of it.”

Minghao nods, unable to stop himself from smiling. “Let’s go, then.”

Mingyu follows him as he heads toward campus again, but when they fall in step, Minghao’s heart drops all the way to his feet at just how easy it feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/jooniedimpss)


End file.
